


A Different Cab Ride

by idlesuperstar



Series: The Life And Death Of Sugar Candy [15]
Category: Powell and Pressburger - Fandom, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idlesuperstar/pseuds/idlesuperstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Christ.</i> If the cab hadn’t stopped when it did! What might have happened?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Cab Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Series notes [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/36980)  
> Set directly after [_Brief Hours_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/905236) and [_The Bachelor Dinner_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/916214). This refers back a lot to _Brief Hours_ so it's best to have read that, at least. Or you could go crazy and read all the 1919 stories, beginning with [_A Difficult Train_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/861336) if you like.

Clive helped himself to another brandy and soda. One more wouldn’t hurt. It had been a whirlwind of an evening. He was still finding it hard to calm his thoughts. 

“The last thing I said to him - 'My dear old chap, don't you worry, we'll soon have Germany on her feet again.'” Well, it wasn’t _quite_ the last thing, but there were some things that were his and Theo’s alone. That damned overcrowded station. Better, though, that it had been in public. 

“And he believed it?”

“Theo? I believe so.” How would he not? Clive had only spoken the truth. He turned pensive for a moment. “I hope so.” He had believed Clive about the other things. The important things. It had shone from his face, on the platform. Made him look like that bright boy again, at the window, in the spring sunshine. 

“Darling, don't hum.” Barbara’s voice broke his thoughts. 

“Was I humming?” 

“Yes, it's a little habit you've got.” 

Was it? The things one didn’t notice. That it took someone else to notice. Someone as clever as Barbara. He looked at her fondly. 

“What'll I do if I don't hum?”

She laughed at him, lovely in the firelight. What a dear thing she was! He took her hand, overwhelmed with fondness, and kissed it. How delicate it was, compared to Theo’s! That firm grip on his arm, the last brief clasp as he had leaned in close to speak. Christ, his voice, then. Was it terrible to be thinking of that here, while he was holding his wife’s hand? No. No, it was just how things were. He was betraying nobody.  

“Anything, darling,” Barbara’s voice broke in again, “except the crossword. It’s too early in our marriage for that, I think.” She smiled up at him. Bless her and her teasing. He was a dolt when it came to such things, as she well knew. “Do you want to - ” she continued, almost cautiously, “ - that is, we could talk a little more, if you wanted to. Or I could leave you to your thoughts. I know it’s been a lot to take in, this evening. After - ” she broke off, and Clive saw she was worried that she’d said too much. Overstepped. 

“After the camp, you mean? It’s alright, darling, you can say it.” He sipped his drink, tried to organise his thoughts. “It’s alright. It’s all alright. Behind us. Forgotten.”

“Forgiven, too?”

“Nothing to forgive.”

“Clive. Darling. What a heart you have.”

“Oh, rot. I’d - ” _forgive him anything_ , he’d been about to say. True, but best not said aloud. “I mean, oh, I don’t know what I mean. Only that it’s behind us, and all is well.”

“I’m glad, darling. It’s good to see you happy again.”

“Thanks in no small part to you, you know.” He smiled at her again. Then yawned, suddenly. 

“Clive, you’re exhausted. It’s no wonder. You should go up.”

“An old man, eh? Is that what you’re saying? And you out ‘til all hours with your mother! Now I see your true colours!” 

“My true colours! I’m still waiting for Paris! Then you’ll see. I’m going to drag you everywhere! And after that - ” her eyes were sparkling. 

“Who knows where? That’s the fun of it. Oh I can’t wait, my dear. I hope the next posting’s somewhere hot. I never feel quite warm enough in London, except in summer.”

“Oh, Clive, just think! Africa, perhaps? Or India? But, no, you’ve been before. It wouldn’t be exciting for you again.”

“Stuff and nonsense, old girl. It will be, showing it to you. It’ll be like seeing it for the first time again. Oh - ” and he yawned again.

“Go along, Clive. Get some sleep. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Alright, my dear.” He hauled himself out of the chair and kissed her cheek, “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

“You too. Pleasant dreams.”

Pleasant dreams, he thought, huffing a laugh to himself. That barely touched on it, the thoughts in his head. He was tired, it was true. But from keeping everything in. He climbed the stairs, thinking of Theo at dinner, keeping it all in. Only Clive could tell, he was sure. How precise Theo was, in front of everyone. How dignified. Not his freely laughing friend. No, that was for Clive alone. He flushed, thinking of the cab journey from Victoria. Theo’s arm warm under his hand. Theo’s arm warm at the table too. God, he’d not been able to let him go. He could not be near him and not touch. He’d been half aroused, half dazed, since then. No-one around the table had noticed, he was sure. He’d not even thought of it. Here was Theo, in his home! And then, that ride back to the station, had Davies noticed? Probably not - the fellow had looked a little green; too many fine cigars after army cigarette rations. It had been an annoyance, not having Theo to himself, for those last final moments when their time was so brief, but perhaps it had been a blessing, really. Clive would not have been able to control himself. It would have been that first cab ride all over again. Christ! That glorious few minutes! He flushed hot again, thinking of it.

He went into his room, closed the door, started undressing. Bow tie. Theo had straightened it for him at the front door, fingers brushing his neck. He put a hand to the skin there, seeking the memory. He shrugged his smoking jacket off, hung it up. Theo’s tunic. How he’d wanted to unbutton it, get underneath, get to the skin beneath. Ridiculous, the amount of clothes one wore! A stiff shirt front, a uniform tunic. How difficult to feel the live flesh beneath. He unfastened his cufflinks, unbuttoned his shirt. Oh, he’d wanted to see Theo stripped, see how time had changed him beneath his clothes. God, the very thought! He’d barely looked older, when he’d smiled. And with his hair a mess, and the flush on his skin, well! Clive wanted to ruffle him, to disarray him. He draped his shirt on the chair, slipped his shoes off, unbuttoned his trousers. He shouldn’t begrudge the little time they’d had, when it had come unexpectedly. It had been an unbelievable gift. But, oh! How he wanted more time. Time and privacy. Time to strip Theo out of his uniform, properly. Not like in the hospital. What a scuffle that had been! He’d been half undressed to begin with. Theo’s hand warm on his bare chest. He smoothed a hand down his chest. Oh, that had been astonishing, in the dark. But they’d wrestled themselves out of their clothes, desperate. They’d been desperate in that cab this evening. God! He was hot all over, thinking of it, his cock hardening at the thought of it. He pushed his underwear carefully down, stroked himself lightly. _Christ_. If the cab hadn’t stopped when it did! What might have happened? 

He climbed into bed, the smooth warm sheets sliding soft against his bare skin. He lay on his back, eyes closed, one hand smoothing against his chest, the other on his cock, lightly stroking. Theo would be on that train now, going home. No, don’t think of it. Think of his face, earlier, in the cab. That handsome face, happy, laughing, erasing forever the memory of the camp. _You’ve still got my mark on you._ In his mind he took Theo’s face in his hands, tracing the scar with his thumb, felt Theo trembling underneath him. Something primitive in Clive wanted to mark him again, bruise his skin. Wanted to fist a hand in Theo’s hair, expose the taut stretch of his neck, hear Theo gasping under his hands, under his mouth as he sucked a mark onto his neck, where everyone could see. _Mine. You’re mine_. Hearing the choke in Theo’s voice as he breathed _für immer, Clive_. _Always_. God, his _voice_. Clive, pressing kisses to Theo’s face, struggling to undo his tunic buttons. Wanting to peel him out of his clothes, spread him out naked on the seat, look, taste his fill. But Theo - even the Theo in his head - was contrary, murmuring hot into his ear _N_ _o, Clive, you must let me. Let me take care of you._ Christ, his perfect English; devastating. And then Theo, pressing him back against the seat, a gleam in his eye, and slowly unwrapping him. His bow tie, his jacket; unbuttoning his shirt, smoothing hot hands over his bare chest. Oh! Clive’s heart kicked at that and his cock jerked in his hand. No, no, he must take his time. Theo was taking his time. As if Clive were a precious gift. Kissing him fiercely, hands firm and warm in his hair, god the feel of it! Shifting, now, and climbing up to straddle him, god his strong thighs, the brush of their trousers. Clive wanted to be naked. Wanted - oh! - he flushed hot all over - wanted to be naked with Theo over him, still in his uniform. Wanted the wool brushing his thighs, his naked cock. Oh, _Christ!_ He tightened his hand on his cock at that, desperate. _Yes_. Theo’s clever hands, they would do that, peel him out of all his clothes, leaving him flushed and hard, wholly naked. He quickened his stroke, unable to hold himself back. Theo looking up at him from under his wrecked fall of hair, eyes dark and burning, braced above him, the wool of his trousers rasping against Clive’s thighs - oh! God, his hand, his hot sure hand on Clive’s cock, his other hand pressed hard against the seat back, his sleeve rough against Clive’s naked shoulder, holding himself up as he worked Clive’s cock. Christ, he was going to die from it. Theo’s lovely face, through his hair, shining. Clive stroking Theo’s face, clutching his side, ruining his hair, desperate to touch everywhere, clinging onto his arm, feeling the lovely firm strength there, the heavy wool; the hard clamp of his thighs, almost painful; surrounded, _owned,_ cramped up on the seat like Clive’s tiny hospital bed, oh the feel of it! Theo’s hand faster now, god, he was close, Theo leaning forward to kiss him, the rough drag of his arm pressed between them, moving faster; god his lovely mouth, the soft lush loveliness of it, Clive’s hands on his face, in his hair, Theo’s buttons digging hard into his breastbone, Theo’s mouth hot and moist at his ear, murmuring curses, _come on Clive, that’s it, come on, let me see you, yes, yes_ , his perfect English breaking down, falling into entreaties in German, _ja, Lieber,_ Theo’s hand firm and hot and perfect, his mouth on Clive’s again, fierce, and then Clive gasping brokenly into his mouth _Theo Theo Theo oh -_ and he was coming hot and hard over his fist, stuttering through it, back arched, shuddering, wrecked. 

He came back to himself slowly, wallowing in the lovely heavy feel of his limbs, the slack muscles, the smooth warm glide of the sheets. His hand was sticky, as was his belly. He couldn’t care. He reached idly to the nightstand drawer, found one of his handkerchiefs. Better that than the sheets, as ever. He cleaned himself up, warm and sleepy, thought of Theo, warm and sleepy that morning in that tiny bed, as he’d cleaned them up. Until he’d recognised his handkerchief! Well! That was tucked away, safe. How many times over the years had Clive thought it inexcusably sentimental, still keeping the thing. But - oh! His heart leapt. Not sentimental, not at all. True. _Mein Herz, it is yours._ Seventeen years _._ It would not be as long again, he was sure of it. Even were he posted to the four corners of the earth, they would see each other again. Germany was almost next door. It was only goodbye for a short while. He rolled over, sleepy, idle thoughts drifting through his mind. Theo’s face, on the platform, eyes dark with tears, his voice low and quick, _Auf Wiedersehen, Lieber._  Clive’s heart swelled again at the sound of it. _Lieber._  Precious, precious. He was Theo’s love. He burrowed further into his pillows, contented, heavy and soft. They would have a holiday in Germany, he and Barbara. They would meet up with Theo and Edith. The girls were sure to get on. Barbara would get on with anyone. They would have walks in the countryside, and card games - he yawned, hugely - and then he and Theo, they would have nights of talking, just the two of them, close and warm, together; somehow together, there would be a way, and knowing - knowing their hearts...it would be enough...his thoughts scattered, vapours only, and he drifted into sleep. 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by the inspirational **jennytheshipper** , for which, much thanks. And the ever-lovely tea-with-theo corrected my German. Which, considering there's only three words, is fairly impressive. Danke, mein Freund. 
> 
> Oh, and some of the dialogue is direct from the film, so eternal thanks once more to Emeric, and Micky.
> 
> One of my favourite tiny moments in the film is Clive humming the _Je Suis Titania_ unconsciously, which Barbara chides him for. In the script it doesn't mention _what_ he is humming - perhaps it came about on the day, from who knows where. It made me think that Clive was thinking of Theo, and his window climbing.


End file.
